


Cold

by WandererRiha



Category: Final Fantasy XV, Final Fantasy XV Brotherhood
Genre: Gen, Ignis whump, Sick Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-31 16:04:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21448924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WandererRiha/pseuds/WandererRiha
Summary: Ignis doesn't get sick.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 122





	Cold

Ignis did not get sick. It was- like many things- something he worked hard to achieve and something in which he took deep pride. He was always careful to maintain his own health- if he wasn’t fit, how could he look after Noctis?- and followed procedures like hand sanitizer and flu shots religiously. A scratchy throat after arguing with councilors all afternoon hardly registered, no more did sneezing over the dusty books in the Citadel library. If he was tired, it was because he was on his fourth Ebony of the day and hadn’t slept much the previous evening. It certainly wasn’t because he was getting sick.

Some sort of crud had been making the rounds at both the Citadel, and at Noctis’ school. Prompto had been out sick for almost a week. Ignis had driven him to the ER for antibiotics himself. He was now back in attendance and seemed no worse for wear, if a bit sniffly. Ignis gave him his bottle of hand sanitizer. He had more where that came from. Despite both of them being old enough to know better, Ignis had to scold Noctis and Prompto about wiping their noses on their hands or sleeves.

“There is a box of tissues between you in the arm rest,” he said through clenched teeth as he drove them home from school. “_Use it._”

Aside from snotty teenagers (haha) Ignis didn’t think too much about it. It wasn’t until his own nose suddenly stopped working and his throat went from scratchy to raw that he began to worry. Tea with lemon and honey took care of the worst of it, but it became increasingly hard to swallow. He took some cold medicine and went back to work. He didn’t have time to be sick.

“You okay, Specs?” Nocits asked after the fourth or fifth time Ignis had to turn away from the stove to cough into his elbow.

“Just a bit of a cold, nothing more.”

“That sounds way uglier than a cold, dude,” Prompto commented. “I thought I was gonna hack up a lung when I had the crud.”

“It’s nothing,” Ignis said in a voice that forbade argument.

“You can’t stubborn away germs,” Noctis insisted.

Ignis did not respond, just washed his hands and returned to cooking in a way that said: _Watch me._

\--

Ignis woke the next morning with a thundering headache and a foul taste in his mouth. He must have slept with his mouth open for most of the night. His tongue was dry and coated with something that tasted what he imagined the flavor of a locker room floor to be like. He had to brush his teeth twice to completely get rid of it. The cold medicine didn’t do much to alleviate his burning sinuses, or the steadily increasing headache. Nevermind. Tea instead of coffee, then. Ignis knew he had some ginger green tea. That should help open his head a little.

—

Three cups of tea and more cold medicine than was what recommended on the label did nothing. The tickle in his throat was driving him mad. Ignis did his best to clear his throat without actually coughing, but it didn’t work very well. People were starting to look at him askance, and Ignis did his best to swallow back the urge to cough yet again. Hopefully this thing would run its course and he could get on with his life.

If anything, it escalated. Ignis might have fallen asleep during the council meeting if he hadn’t been in so much pain. He did his best to swallow back cough after cough, but it didn’t work very well. His nose was completely out of commission and his throat and ears hated him. When the meeting was finally adjourned, standing made the room spin. His inner ears must be blocked as well. Perhaps he could nip down to the steam room in the training area? That was sure to loosen things up.

The heat of the steam room did nothing for his headache, but did loosen the phlegm considerably. It was, Ignis realized, the first time he’d felt warm all day. Ordinarily, he was a bit overheated if he wore a blazer indoors. Today, he’d been half tempted to take a leaf out of his uncle’s book and wear a sweater vest beneath his jacket. Ignis held a damp washcloth to his face while his sinuses melted. Despite the snot cascading from his nose, the pressure in his head didn’t lessen so much as shift. More mucus dripped down the back of his throat, forcing him to cough.

This time, he couldn’t catch his breath, had to keep hacking until whatever was blocking his windpipe was gone. Ignis was red in the face, eyes watering, when he finally dislodged and spat a wad of mucus into the washcloth, heaving in air in an enormous gulp. The steam room swam before his eyes, and he briefly worried he might puke or pass out- potentially both. Maybe it was time he cooled off a bit. Pausing to check his balance when he stood, Ignis made his way to the showers.

\--

Although the pressure in his head was a little better, the cough would not leave him. It stayed with him all day, following him down to the parking garage. Hand on the car door handle, Ignis was seized with a violent fit of coughing. It left him doubled over and gasping for breath. His stomach hurt; the muscles of his abdomen having clenched so hard that he’d wet himself a tiny bit. Not enough to seep through his underwear, thank goodness, but enough to be thoroughly uncomfortable. Never mind. He could change once he got to Noct’s apartment. He always kept a spare set of clothes there just in case.

Standing straight was harder than anticipated. The garage wobbled in a way that made his stomach lurch. He started as a heavy hand came down on his shoulder.

“You okay, Iggy?”

Gladio stood just behind him.

“Fine,” he rasped. The single word raked his already raw throat bloody, triggering another round of coughing that he was sure lasted over a minute. Eyes watering and diaphragm clenching in a painful spasm, Ignis remained doubled-over, trying to catch his breath.

“Six, Iggy, why didn’t you tell me you had the plague?”

Ignis gave him an annoyed look over the tops of his glasses.

“You can’t go near Noct if you’ve got the death-crud. Lemme pick up the twerps. You go home and rest.”

“I’m perf--” It was as far as he got. Another fit of coughing seized him, and he nearly lost his balance before he could manage to draw breath.

“Sure,” Gladio drawled. “C’mon, get in. I’m driving.”

\--

Gladio made a minor detour to Ignis’ own small apartment before heading out to pick up Noctis and Prompto from school. It didn’t feel right leaving Ignis there on his own, but there was nothing to be done about it at the moment. He’d come back and check on him after he’d picked up Prince Naptis and his Choco-butt-headed friend.

Noctis was surprised to see Gladio behind the wheel.

“Where’s Ignis?” he asked as he and Prompto piled into the back seat.

“Got a cold,” Gladio said, carefully maneuvering out of the car circle and into traffic. He really hated city driving; too damn many lanes and crosswalks and one-way streets and shit. “Told him to chug some OJ and go to bed.”

“How did that go?” Noctis asked, clearly skeptical.

Gladio shrugged. “He was pretty miserable when I left him. You dorks okay with noodles or pizza tonight? I wanna make sure Iggy doesn’t cough up something important.”

Noctis exchanged a slightly confused look with Prompto who shrugged. Normally, any excuse to eat pizza was fine with them, but Ignis being sick somehow felt like treason. Noctis resolved to do at least some of his homework before he went to bed. Ignis would be pleased by that.

\--

Ignis was passed out of the sofa when Gladio let himself into Ignis’ apartment. Technically, he shared it with his uncle, but as Steward of the Citadel, Ignis’ uncle was just as busy as Ignis himself and was therefore rarely at home. Gladio assumed someone had called or texted him regarding his nephew’s health, but fired off a quick message anyway. He got an automatic “out of office” reply. Well. So much for adult supervision.

If it were Noctis, he would have pulled the throw off the back of the couch and tucked him in where he lay. Ignis, however, had a good six inches on Noct, and his sofa was half the size of the sectional in Noctis’ apartment. Cramming his long, lanky body onto just three cushions had taken some ingenuity, but Ignis had managed it. Despite him being down for the count, it didn’t look at all comfortable.

“Hey Iggy,” Gladio said, shaking his shoulder gently.

Ignis started, snorting a half-drawn breath before descending into yet another coughing fit. Gladio had never seen anyone _actually_ hack up a lung, but as Ignis continued to gag, he became worried that the expression might have an all too literal origin. Hurrying to the kitchen, he got him a glass of water. He returned just in time to watch Ignis finally heave a monumental breath inward. It sounded as if it hurt.

Ignis accepted the water and sipped some, grimacing as he swallowed.

“That bad, huh?”

“It’s been three days,” Ignis rasped. “I’ll be over it by tomorrow.”

Gladio gave him a sceptical look, but nodded and patted his back. “Tomorrow. Sure.”

\--

Ignis was not in his office the following day. Despite Gladio’s best attempts to contact him, Ignis did not answer his texts, and any calls he made went straight to voicemail. He could just be sleeping in, taking a day or maybe coming in late. After yesterday, Gladio would be surprised indeed if Ignis’ cold had cleared up overnight.

Gladio took his lunch break to go and check on him. He nearly hit Ignis’ uncle in the face, attempting to knock the same time the door was opened. It was always a little weird coming face to face with him. To say the family resemblance was strong would be an understatement. Ignis’ father’s brother looked enough like Ignis to be mistaken for his actual dad; a sort of older, stodgier version of his nephew.

Ignis’ Uncle- Gladio could never remember the man’s name- smiled for him. “Master Amicitia, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Just came to check on Ignis, sir. He doing any better?”

“I’m afraid not. He’s resting under protest at the moment. I’m afraid I had to confiscate his phone.”

Gladio chuckled. That explained the lack of replies. “Sounds like Iggy.”

Ignis’ uncle smiled. “I daresay. I’m so sorry, but I’ve got a few appointments today I simply can’t ignore.”

“S’okay, I’ll keep him company for a bit.”

“Thank you so much.”

The older man vanished out the door. Proceeding to Ignis’ bedroom, Gladio found the door ajar and pushed it open enough to peek inside.

Ignis was curled up somewhere beneath a tangled pile of blankets. Ordinarily, Ignis was one of those people who slept flat on his back and barely creased the sheets. Now, however, he was cocooned in a rumpled nest of fleece and flannel. Gladio thought about retreating, assuming Ignis was asleep, and then the coughing started.

Gladio reached into the pile of bedding and eventually found the person underneath. He levered Ignis into a sitting position and held him upright while Ignis gasped for breath. Not a lot of things frightened Gladio. This did. The coughing went all the way down to the bottom of Ignis’ lungs, rattling his ribs and seizing his entire body. Despite so much effort, it produced nothing. Ignis hung panting in his arms, winded and spent. Gladio handed him a glass of water from the bedside table. It took Ignis a few tries before he could get his hands around the glass and take a sip.

“Shit Iggy, you’re even worse than yesterday,” Gladio commented. He looked worse too. Eyes bleary and nose red, the rest of his face was pale and drawn, skin clammy with cold sweat. Gladio usually ran warm, Ignis cold. He could feel too much heat radiating from beneath Ignis’ pajamas.

“I’m fine,” he croaked.

“Sure. You’re only dying a little bit.”

Ignis gave him a congested little glare. Gladio patted his shoulder.

“I can’t die, I have things to do.”

“Let me handle the Royal Pain today. There’s no way you’re going to work like this.”

“But--!” Ignis began.

“Do you want to kill your prince?”

Ignis closed his mouth- as much as he could, anyway- at that. Noctis had dodged the proverbial bullet when Prompto had gotten sick. Mercifully, Noctis had not become ill himself. Something like this would be sure to land him in the hospital. Any hint of infection usually went straight to his back, and doubled his chances for complications. Ignis gave a defeated sigh.

“Fine. Bring me my laptop. I’ll work from home today.”

He lasted approximately ten minutes before his eyes drifted closed and his head lolled on one shoulder. Gladio carefully set the computer aside and eased Ignis back onto the pillows, dead asleep. Not the preferred method, but if it got Iggy to take a nap, Gladio wasn’t going to complain.

\--

Ignis woke several hours later coughing and choking, adrenaline spiking him upright. His abdomen seized, lungs trying and failing to pull in air. It wasn’t until he retched into his hands that he managed a gasp that brought oxygen with it.

“Iggy?” Gladio poked his head into the room. Good thing he’d decided to check on Iggy after picking up the twerps from school. “You okay?”

Ignis squinted down at the distasteful mess in his hands. There were bright smears of red among the yellow and green of dead esophageal cells. He tried to swallow but it hurt.

“Shit.” Gladio grabbed a wad of tissues and did his best to mop up the gunk. “Okay, that’s it. Hospital for you.”

“That’s not necessary,” Ignis wheezed, or tried to. It felt as if he’d swallowed a cheese grater.

“Iggy you just hacked up blood,” Gladio told him, deadpan. “I wanna make sure you don’t have like pneumonia or something. If nothing else, we’ll get you some good drugs and run this bug off that much quicker. Okay?”

Ignis nodded. It wasn’t as if he could reply.

\--

No one wanted to sit near them in the ER waiting room, what with Ignis still coughing and choking to the point where he gagged at least twice. Ignis huddled close to Gladio partly because he couldn’t stop shivering, and partly because staying upright required too much effort.

When the nurse finally called “Scientia?” Ignis shot to his feet, only to immediately collapse. Gladio scooped him half-conscious into his arms and carried him into the exam room. Rather than push him away and blearily insist he was fine, Ignis curled into Gladio, reluctant to let go. Gladio set him down on the exam table but held on, propping him up, Ignis’ head on his shoulder.

“Man, you must really feel like shit,” Gladio rumbled, stroking a hand over Ignis’ hair. Only in the stark silence of the exam room did he notice how labored and shallow Ignis’ breathing had become, the way each breath wheezed and crackled.

_I should have dragged him in sooner._

The doctor arrived to catch Ignis in the midst of another coughing fit. Her eyebrows rose when the coughing didn’t let up. Ignis’ face had transcended red and gone nearly blue by the time he managed to draw in any air. The doctor pulled on a flu mask and extended one to Gladio who took it, bemused.

“What’s this for?”

“To prevent transmission through aspiration,” she told him. “Please, put it on.”

Panic rising, Gladio did as he was told, helping to keep a semi-conscious Ignis upright while the doctor looked him over.

“That’s one hell of a fever,” the doctor observed. “And I don’t like the sound of your lungs. When was the last time you had a Pertussis booster?”

Gladio was confused. “Per-whats-it?”

“Pertussis. More commonly known as Whooping cough.”

“Whooping cough?” Gladio echoed. “I thought everybody got inoculated against that as a kid? It’s virtually a dead disease.”

“‘Virtually’ being the key word,” the doctor agreed. “It’s recommended that you get a booster every ten years, starting in your late teens. Most people get it before braving dorm life at college.”

Ignis hadn’t lived the college life, just done the work. He’d gone to class while still living at home with his Uncle and performing his other royal duties. Since a dorm or an apartment with roommates were not part of the plan, the possibility that he might need re-vaccinated might not have come up.

But he _had_ taken Prompto to the ER for a wicked cough and high fever two weeks ago.

_Shit._

“Is he gonna be okay?”

“Whooping cough isn’t fatal to adults,” the doctor assured him. “Indeed, it’s actually far more common in grownups than you might think. We have antibiotics now that can see it off faster. It’s not the preferred method of getting your immunizations, but he’ll be okay. He’ll probably need at least a week’s worth of recovery time, though.”

Ignis wouldn’t like that, but Gladio was going to personally make sure Ignis rested if he had to duct tape him to the bed.

\--

Duct tape turned out to be unnecessary. Because of the high risk of contagion of his arcane disease, Ignis was placed under quarantine until he was no longer infectious. Having been told what the hell was making him cough like that, Ignis was more inclined to listen to reason and stay in bed. Especially since he couldn’t argue with the doctors the way he could Gladio.

Ignis seemed to take the oversight of his vaccinations as a personal slight, and requested his medical records to be reviewed to make sure he hadn’t missed anything else. He might have driven the hospital staff mad if he hadn’t spent so much time asleep. Gladio has expected Ignis to be cut loose the next day, but three days later, he was still in isolation. Evidently the antique germs were having too much fun in Iggy's system.

Ignis waved from behind the glass windows of his room, and gave him a thumb’s up. It didn’t do much to distract from the fact that Iggy was in there _alone_ with an IV in one arm, and an oxygen mask over his face. Not one of the little tubes either, but an old fashioned mask that covered both his nose and mouth. The doctors assured Gladio again and again that Ignis would be fine. That didn’t stop Noctis from fidgeting and fretting about his advisor, or Prompto from blaming himself.

“Are you _sure_ he’s okay?” Noctis pressed. “Isn’t that like...some kind of antique disease? Didn’t people used to _die_ of that?”

“Yeah,” Gladio told him. “but that was back when like...everyone wore hoop skirts, and rode chocobos everywhere, and thought cocaine-based pain meds and arsenic-colored wallpaper was a good idea. Besides, it’s really only dangerous to small kids, and Iggy’s a grown-ass adult. If he ever listens to his own advice and rests and takes care of himself, he’ll be back nagging at you in no time.”

“Oh man,” Prompto moaned. “This is my fault! If he hadn’t taken me to the doctor’s--”

“It’d be you in the ICU, not him.” Gladio finished. “It’s a damn good thing Iggy took you when he did. We’d never hear the end of it if we let you snuff it. So quit blaming yourself.”

Prompto managed a wobbly little “Yessir.”

“When can I see him?” Noctis aked.

Gladio sighed. “When he’s not contagious anymore, and when he’s not feeling like death. Seriously, he can’t even talk right now. Give him some time to rest. All he could do right now is snore at you.”

Noctis seemed amused at this. “Only fair. I snore at him plenty.”

\--

Ignis spent three days in quarantine, and a fourth under general observation before he was released from the hospital. Although he’d stopped coughing soon after receiving antibiotics, his illness had left him weak and wasted. Too much exertion made him light-headed, and he blacked out at least once when he’d tried to stand up. Thanks to Gladio’s quick reflexes, Ignis only just avoided bashing his head against the bedside table. He wasn’t contagious, but he wasn’t fighting fit either. Although the doctor assured him he’d be back to normal in no time, Ignis had some concerns. Nothing- not even the spate of Chocobo pox when he was ten- had wiped him out this badly.

“So can I see him?” Noctis asked for the fiftieth time, bouncing nervously where he stood.

“We’re here, aren’t we?” Gladio let them into Ignis’ apartment. “Just go easy on him, okay? And keep your mask on!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Noctis called, darting for Ignis’ bedroom. Gladio and Prompto followed at a more sedate pace. Prompto looked around him with wide eyes at Ignis’ home. He was probably coming to the same conclusion that Gladio had come to himself: it was so plain.

Every surface was scrupulously clean, without a single object out of place. It was so neat and minimalist that had it not been for the overstuffed bookshelves, one might have thought that no one lived there at all. The furnishings were simple, even dated, for the home of a royal retainer. Somehow, the modesty of it was what made it feel more like a home and less like simply a place to sleep.

Gladio had expected another enormous knot of blankets, but Ignis must have truly been feeling better. Although his uncle had draped an extra afghan over him, Ignis lay half curled on his side, pillows and duvet unmussed.

“Iggy?” Noctis called softly. Ignis did not stir.

“Shhh!” Gladio hissed. “You wanna wake him up? Let him sleep.”

Noctis ignored him and edged into the room. Ignis shifted, but didn’t lift his head. Perhaps some part of his brain recognized Gladio’s heavy tread, Noctis’ slight limp, and Prompto’s tripping footsteps, interpreting them as safe. He didn’t even jostle awake when Noctis climbed up onto the empty side of the double bed and settled close to his advisor. Instead, he turned to face Noctis, throwing an arm over him.

“Bastard,” Noct told him fondly. “You had us all worried. Your stoicism is gonna get you killed one of these days.”

Gladio sat down at the foot of the bed, amused. “You should take a picture, Prom; proof that Iggy actually does need to sleep.”

“Nah,” Noctis said softly. “Guy’s gotta have some secrets.”

\--

After two days at home, Ignis started to get antsy. His Uncle couldn’t drop his duties to watch over Ignis 24/7, and Ignis didn’t especially want him to. He tried to work from home on his laptop, and sent incessant texts to Noctis, Gladio, and even Prompto to remind them of everything from upcoming appointments to eating their vegetables. If it wasn’t for the long pauses between text dumps- wherein Ignis had likely fallen asleep- Gladio would have decided to get out the duct tape after all.

“Look,” Gladio said to him one evening after work. “You are supposed to be resting. Nagging us is not resting.”

“It’s my job,” Ignis insisted, voice still weak and raw. “If I can’t get out of bed, I can at least do something useful.”

Gladio snatched Ignis’ phone from his hands. “Then take a nap. Have a snack. Anything but trying to dive right back into work. We’ve got it covered, okay? Nothing is going to burst into flames without you there to personally oversee it.”

Ignis crossed his arms and scowled, but the effect was lessened considerably by his mussed hair and striped pajamas. Gladio chewed his lip, tapping Ignis’ phone against his palm as he thought.

“Yanno… Doctor’s orders are to stay in bed and rest, but she didn’t say _whose_ bed it had to be.”

\--

Gladio took first shift- or rather, Jared did. The Amicitia’s were the only ones with anyone home during the week day. Yes, Ignis could have fended for himself, but he might also have concussed himself if he were to faint again. Jared understood how to achieve the delicate balance of providing care without seeming fussy. When Talcott and Iris got home from school, they took over, keeping Ignis entertained when he began to feel restless. By the time Gladio got home, he was only able to give Ignis an update on the day’s events and play a single round of King’s Knight before Ignis fell asleep on him.

Prompto’s parents were gone for the weekend. Gladio and Noctis had a royal function to suffer through, so Prompto volunteered to Ignis-sit. Although his home was small, he was willing to share it. He and Ignis took over his parents’ room and binged on cheesy movies and video games. Ignis didn’t often get to act his age, and it was nice to see him behaving like the teenager he still was. Since Prompto had already survived his own bout of Whooping cough, there was little risk of reinfection. He and Ignis had a slumber party of sorts, falling asleep in the big bed to the sounds of a man in a monster suit stomping through a cardboard city.

Noctis was finally free the following day. Gladio drove Ignis and Prompto to Noctis’ apartment. Ignis’ first instinct was to pick up the random bits of laundry and rubbish that Noctis had left here and there, but nearly fell face-first into the carpet when he leaned over to pick up a discarded candy wrapper. Gladio caught him before he could dash his head against the floor. Evidently his inner ear had not yet fully recovered. 

Rather than tuck Ignis into the spare bed, Gladio helped him to the enormous sectional sofa. Noctis and Prompto immediately built a blanket fort out of the spare cushions and loaded a video game. There was nothing wrong with Ignis’ reflexes, he whipped their butts at Moogle Kart. Noctis loaded King’s Knight for a dungeon crawl next. After that, Gladio ordered pizza and cued up a movie. Noctis and Prompto were arguing over the last piece of pizza when Ignis nodded off.

Gladio put an arm around him to hold him steady. There was no rattle to his breathing, no hacking cough, no hint of blue to his skin from lack of oxygen, but he still felt strangely delicate. Maybe it was Gladio’s imagination coloring things; lingering nerves from watching his friend fight simply to breathe. Ignis was always so worried about them, he often put his own wants and needs aside. This was the last time that would happen, Gladio promised himself. Ignis would always be there to take care of them- so long as they took care of him.


End file.
